


Michael Corner and The Ghost of Christmas's Present

by EdwardAlport



Series: Michael Corner and The Parallel Sequence of Stories [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:54:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdwardAlport/pseuds/EdwardAlport
Summary: This is the second part of a series of stories covering the career of Michael Corner. It is a Seasonal Offering and tells of Michael's first Christmas in his time at Hogwarts. His family's festivities are interrupted by a man from The Ministry.
Series: Michael Corner and The Parallel Sequence of Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578898
Kudos: 2





	Michael Corner and The Ghost of Christmas's Present

# Michael Corner and the Ghost of Christmas’s Present

‘So this is Christmas, is it?’ said Boot. ‘Fir trees and fairies?’

‘Don’t you do Christmas, then?’ I said.

‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I mean, this Jesus bloke was just one of us, wasn’t he?’

‘He probably was,’ I agreed, ‘but don’t you do Christmas just to fit in? That’s what we do.’

‘We used to,’ he concede. ‘My parents said they used to back in the sixties, but these days no-one cares that much.’

‘We always have a party,’ I said. ‘How about you, Tony?’ I asked Tony Goldstein, who was admiring the fairies.

‘Well, seeing I’m Jewish, Christmas doesn’t mean much to me,’ he said. ‘We have Hanukah, but that’ll be over by the time we get home.’

In fact, Christmas was not a big deal _chez_ Corner, either. Mum held the same views as Boot’s family and Dad was a professional atheist (or ‘rationalist’ as he called it). But the blending-in aspect of Christmas was significant, for us. Dad was an academic, a professor of Economics and had to be fairly conventional or he might not be taken seriously. And we lived in a town that was predominantly Muggle. Mum accepted her responsibilities under the Statute of Secrecy, so we put up tinsel and lights with everyone else.

All the same, the end of autumn term at Hogwarts was something else. I wondered how many of the staff thought about Christmas, but Hagrid was well into the swing of it. Half the Forest seemed to have ended up in the Dining Hall and the bill to the fairies must have been astronomical. I almost envied the people who were staying over the hols because it looked like Christmas Day itself would be a riot.

The atmosphere on the Express back down to King’s Cross was exciting to start with but it did become a bit feverish at the end, with some pretty dangerous jinxes flying about. One Hufflepuff Third Year was shrunk to the size of a matchbox and was nearly sat on by Longbottom, who was stopped just in time. Snakeo Malfoy tried to get Mandy Brocklehurst with a scale-skin curse but she’s much stronger than she looks. She blocked him and got him with _strabismius_ , which left him cross-eyed for an hour.

Mum was waiting at King’s Cross, but we then had to go to a Muggle platform and catch the next train back up to Thirsk. It was silly, really. The Express actually went through Thirsk station, about five miles from our home, on the way down, but didn’t stop anywhere before King’s Cross.

‘Party’ might have been an exaggeration. ‘Family get-together’ was closer to the mark. Davy was only just ten but didn’t seem to be magical and didn’t care very much. He thought I was weird. Dad’s brother, my Uncle Stephen, took the whole magic thing in his stride, so he came over. Auntie Mary and her family lived in the States so we didn’t see them very often. Mum’s brother, Uncle Siegfried, always came over but he had been killed by Death Eaters before I was born. I’m not sure where he haunted for the rest of the year.

The big problem with Uncle Siegfried was that he had never moved on, in any sense. Not only was he still here, but he still thought I was about three.

‘Well, Mikey,’ he would say not long after he manifested. ‘What’s your favourite toy?’

Which was difficult to respond to once I had reached ten and thought I was beyond toys.

This year, though, while he asked Davy about toys, to me it was, ‘Well, Mikey. Which house are you in?’

And I thought … we’ve moved! A bit.

‘Tough, being in Ravenclaw,’ he said when I told him. ‘Having to be relentlessly intelligent. Everyone needs to be able to be a little stupid sometimes.’

‘I thought you had been in Hufflepuff,’ I said.

‘Because your mum was in Hufflepuff? Doesn’t work like that, though I thought you would be in Hufflepuff because of your mum.’

‘Sometimes I wish I was,’ I said.

‘Is there a pretty girl in Hufflepuff?’ he said shrewdly.

‘No,’ I said, blushing. ‘But they seem to have things a bit easier.’

He nodded. ‘They seemed happier in my day,’ he said. ‘I know your mum loved it. I felt I never quite belonged in Ravenclaw. Hufflepuffs aren’t chosen because they are less able or brave or pure or anything like that. They’re in Hufflepuff because they aren’t competitive about it.’

‘I’m not competitive,’ I said.

‘So why are you concerned about being in Ravenclaw?’ he said. ‘Is it because you might be less intelligent tan the others?’

That was pretty unanswerable.

It was odd having a heart-to-heart with a ghost. It was the first time I had been able to have a proper conversation about school. Mum was always a Huff and was even disappointed, I think, that I wasn’t a Huff as well. Dad, of course, zoned out as soon as anyone started talking about Hogwarts, or magic, or any ‘weirdness’ as he put it and Dave didn’t understand. Mum liked hearing about what had changed (and what hadn’t). Dad liked to hear about what I had achieved (which wasn’t much, in my first term) but Uncle Siegfried was interested in how I felt, and the fact that he was dead (and a Ravenclaw) made it easier and safer to talk to him. I had always thought he was a boring old fart (in fairness, he had probably thought I was a boring young fart) but now we had something in common.

‘Imposter syndrome, they used to call it in my day,’ he said. ‘The feeling that you don’t deserve to be where you are and where you’ve got to and what you’ve achieved. Sound familiar?’

‘But I must be where I should be because the Hat put me there,’ I said.

‘You’re not the first to doubt the judgement of the Hat,’ he said. ‘You’ll find lots in Gryffindor who think they aren’t brave enough and probably some in Slytherin who think they aren’t pure enough.’

‘What about the Huffs?’ I said.

‘There may be some who think they’re too clever for Hufflepuff, but they’re missing the point,’ he said. ‘On the whole, I don’t suppose there are many in Hufflepuff who suffer from Imposter Syndrome. I bet, in the darkness of the night, that most of your compadres will be lying there wondering whether they’re bright enough.’

I wondered. I wondered about Boot, with his effortless intelligence and I admit, okay, I admit that I envied it. Was he lying in bed wondering whether he was clever enough?

Christmas Day passed peacefully. Mum didn’t use magic much but she did use it to speed up the cooking of Christmas Dinner.

‘Don’t you eat?’ I asked Uncle Siegfried as we sat back afterwards.

‘I don’t need to and I don’t want to,’ he said with a sad smile.

‘He used to love eating,’ said Mum. ‘He never stopped.

‘I stopped when I was full,’ he said. ‘But I took a lot of filling.’

‘He never got fat, either’ said Mum with mock resentfulness.

‘It’s probably why I’m a ghost,’ he said. ‘I had all that spare energy available with nowhere to put it.’

He started to discuss the Law of Conservation of Energy with Dad and Uncle Stephen, which I remembered vaguely from Science at primary school.

Then the front doorbell rang, which was unusual at four o’clock on Christmas Day. Dad looked puzzled and went to answer it. I tagged along behind him and Dave tagged behind me.

The man outside was very tall and thin and was dressed in a bright purple uniform, with a purple peaked cap and the word ‘Conductor’ embroidered in gold on the brim.

‘Mr, ah, Corner?’ he said, glancing down at a clipboard in his hand.

‘Yes,’ said Dad, looking even more puzzled. ‘Do you know it’s Christmas Day?’

‘Good heavens, is it?’ said The Conductor. ‘Well I never. Happy Christmas to you, then! We have reports of a manifestation in this area.’

‘Who are you?’ asked Dad.

‘I beg your pardon,’ said The Conductor and he fumbled under his clipboard for a card. ‘Archimedes Whipplethorpe at your service.’

We all peered at it. The card said “Archimedes Whipplethorpe. Remedial Psychopomp” but had no other information.

‘What do you want?’ said Mum, coming up behind me and peering over my shoulder.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs ah, Corner,’ said Mr Whipplethorpe. ‘I believe you have a wand.’

‘I do, but my husband doesn’t,’ said Mum. ‘What do you want?’ she repeated.

‘We have reason to believe that you have a manifestation in your house and we are very keen to ensure that this does not continue,’ said Mr Whipplethorpe.

‘Are you from the Ministry?’ asked Mum.

‘Indeed I am,’ said Mr Whipplethorpe.

‘Then let me see your identification.’

He gestured with his wand and a shimmering ID sheet, with his picture in one corner, unfolded in the air. Mum touched his wand with hers and the ID wavered and then steadied.

‘At least that’s okay,’ she said.

‘What’s a psychopomp?’ asked Dave, much to my relief. I wanted to know as well, but I didn’t want to ask.

Mr Whipplethorpe peered down at him. ‘We usher souls on to the next stage,’ he said.

‘So, basically, like an exorcist,’ I said.

‘No, indeed, young man,’ he said. ‘Not in the least like and exorcist. Exorcists force reluctant spirits to leave their haunts. A psychopomp persuades and guides souls that may otherwise not know the way to move on. We think of ourselves as conductors on the soul train.’

‘Well, there’s no-one here for you to persuade,’ said Mum.

‘I beg to differ,’ said Mr Whipplethorpe. There are very strong indications of a manifestation. My reading is that is it a periodic event that may only happen at Christmas.’

‘We haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary,’ said Mum firmly.

‘Very good, madam,’ he said, touching the peak of his cap in what looked like a salute. ‘May I wish you the compliments of the Season.’

We watched him walk down the path and there was a pop as he Disapparated just before he reached the gate.

‘What was all that about?’ asked Uncle Siegfried.

‘Some Ministry jobsworth who wanted to usher your soul to the next stage,’ said Mum, collapsing into a chair.

‘Was that Whipplethorpe?’ said Uncle Siegfried. ‘He’s been after me for a while.’

‘Why do they want to move you on?’ I asked.

‘Because I’m untidy,’ he said with a grin. ‘I don’t fit in with their notions of how afterlife should be lived.’

‘There are ghosts at Hogwarts,’ I pointed out.

‘Well’ that’s Hogwarts,’ he said. ‘Things are different in the big wide world.’

‘The Ministry doesn’t like things that don’t fit,’ said Mum.

‘Will they try again?’ I said.

‘Probably,’ said Uncle Siegfried. ‘But not today if they know I won’t come out.’

‘But they know you’re here.’

‘They certainly know I’m here,’ he said. ‘But they know they won’t be invited in, so they’re stuck.’

‘I thought that was vampires,’ I said.

‘It applies to anything that is dead, or undead or halfway between life and death,’ he said. ‘Death is a threshold and your front door is a threshold and all thresholds take some power to cross unless you’re invited. If you aren’t invited to cross the front door you have to use a lot of power to get past it, which means that you haven’t much left for whatever else you intended to do.’

‘All the same,’ said Mum. ‘I’m going to put some extra wards round the doorframe before we go to bed, just in case.

That was a fun way to see off the evening of Christmas Day. I watched her weaving a whole battery of spells around the door and it was interesting to see her work, now that I had some idea about what she was doing. One of the wards involved mixing some her blood with some of mine and Dave’s and Dad’s. She then wrote sigils around the frame which flared and vanished as the spell came together. At one point Uncle Siegfried came and laid an insubstantial hand on her shoulder and by the end of it, when she sat back on her heels, she looked exhausted.

‘That should do it,’ she said. ‘I just wish we could test them.’

The first test came at about four o’clock.

There was a crash and a shriek from the front door. I leapt out of bed, grabbed my wand and pulled on my dressing gown. By the time I got to the stairs Mum was ahead of me.

‘Stay up here and guard the stairs,’ she hissed. ‘They’re after Siegfried. I don’t know where he is but you must guard the others.’

There was another crash from the front and another at the back. Mum whirled round.

‘Do you know _Protego_?’ she asked urgently.

I nodded.

‘Stop them coming up the stairs,’ she said. ‘Oh Sieg! Where are you? I can only cover one door at a time.’

That was a design fault of the house: you couldn’t see the front door and the back door at the same time.

The front door was holding, but the back door started to while like a jet engine, and then in popped like a person Disapparating and a pressure wave swept over us. Mum moved to cover it and fired a Stunner through it. I could see the front door and watched as a circle in the middle of it started to glow and spread until it was about a foot in diameter. Then a dark hole opened in the middle of the glow and a Stunner shot through the hole. I saw Mum collapse and made to run down to her but a cold hand on my shoulder steadied me.

‘Stay where you are,’ whispered Uncle Siegfried. ‘They’re not after her. Cast a Shield.’

I muttered ‘ _Protego_ ,’ and a shimmering screen fanned out from my wand.

‘Can they get in?’ I whispered. ‘What happened to the threshold?’

‘They can get in physically,’ he said, ‘but they won’t be able to use magic.’

‘We know you’re up there,’ said a mocking voice from the kitchen. ‘You got the ghostie with you?’

‘Don’t answer.’ Uncle Siegfried’s voice was a cold breeze in my ear.

‘You know we can detect the spirit?’ said another voice. Whipplethorpe’s voice.

I felt Uncle Siegfried’s hand on my shoulder and suddenly my Shield was a lot stronger. I started to push it down the stairway.

‘Cover you mother,’ said Uncle Siegfried, aloud and urgent. I pushed hard but they had already reached her where she lay stunned and immobile.

‘Hah! Too late!’ said Whipplethorpe. ‘Now, ghostie. Who is this pretty lady?’

‘What’s going on?’ said Dad. ‘Who’s down there?’

‘That Ministry official, moonlighting as a bounty hunter,’ said Uncle Siegfried. ‘Drop the shield, Mike. It’s not doing anything. They haven’t got magic in the house.’

‘Ah, but we have got knives,’ said the first voice. ‘Don’t need no magic for knives, do we?’

‘You want this pretty lady with her prettiness all intact,’ said Whipplethorpe. ‘Then you give us the ghostie.’

‘What are they going to do?’ said Dad. I could feel my own horror in his voice.

‘Nothing,’ said Uncle Siegfried. ‘I’ll go down.’

‘Can’t you zap them?’ asked Dad,’ What’s this bloody magic good for?’

‘I could zap one,’ I said.

‘You’ve got loads of power,’ said Dad to Uncle Siegfried. ‘Freya said how powerful you are.’

‘I’ve got power but I haven’t got a wand,’ said Uncle Siegfried. ‘I can only channel through Mike’s wand, and there are three of them, anyway. They’ve got me. I’ll have to go.’

‘But Freya …,’ Dad stammered.

‘Freya needs an uncut face more than she needs the residue of a brother,’ said Uncle Siegfried firmly. ‘I’m coming down,’ he called to the men below. ‘Just give me your word on your power that this is will be a Moving On and not and Exorcism.’

‘Heh, heh, heh. Good little ghostie,’ said the first voice.

‘I swear on my power,’ said Whipplethorpe.

‘All of you,’ said Uncle Siegfried.

‘Yeah, yeah. I swear too,’ said the first voice.

‘All of you,’ Uncle Siegfried repeated.

‘Leery little cove, ain’t he,’ said the first voice.

‘I swear too,’ said a third voice. It had a sort of wheezing giggly quality.

‘Just give me a moment,’ called Uncle Siegfried.

He turned to me and put his hand on to, no, into my shoulder. It was like a cold spike. ‘I’m not going to need all this,’ he said as a rough tingle spread from my shoulder until all of me felt as though it was glowing with cold. Then he took his hand away and the cold turned to a warm tingle and then faded.

‘What’s that?’ I said.

‘My power,’ he said. ‘I don’t need it anymore. I know I haven’t been much cop for Christmas presents. It’s not Christmas Day any more, but think of it as twelve Christmas presents rolled into one.’

‘It’s gone,’ I said.

‘It’s sleeping,’ he said. ‘It’ll be there when you need it. Goodbye, Corner,’ he said to Dad. He always called Dad ‘Corner’, even though they were friends. ‘Give my love to Freya. Tell her it was time anyway and I could never have made the decision on my own.’

Then he floated down the stairs while Dad and I watched anxiously. I followed him down the stairs to get to Mum.

‘It’s time to go, gentlemen’ he told the bounty hunters. ‘Put her down.’

‘Aww. Just one little cut,’ said the wheezy voiced one.

‘ _Stupify_ ,’ I shouted and the Stunner erupted from my wand and smashed through the Shields they were trying to put up. It caught the wheezy one in the chest and threw him out of the back door.

‘Blimey,’ I thought. ‘Is that what a bit of extra power will do?’

The others stood as though they had been stupefied as well.

Uncle Siegfried walked the front door. I opened it behind him and found him looking out into the night.

‘I will go on,’ he said.

Immediately, there was the sound of a train approaching and slowing down. Steam and mist swirled around outside the front door and a train, just like the Hogwarts Express, but translucent, drew to a halt in our garden. He opened a door to one of the carriages and stepped in. Mr Whipplethorpe, moving as though he was in a trance and glowing like the train, blew a whistle and the train moved off. Uncle Siegfried waved from the window and I waved until it contracted to a pinpoint of scarlet light and vanished.

And he was gone. Just as I had found someone to talk to about this magic stuff, he was gone.

I stared at the point where the train had disappeared, as if it would rematerialize and bring him back, until Dad came out to find me.

‘Mike,’ he said, sounding tense. ‘We need some help, here.’

I went back to where he and Dave were kneeling beside Mum. She was still out and the other bounty hunters had vanished.

‘She won’t wake up,’ said Dad.

‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I know the counter-spell. _Enervate_ ,’ I said, pointing my wand at her, and the surge of power down my arm was like nothing I had felt before. It left my arm feeling red hot and I almost expected my want to catch fire.

Mum sat up so fast she said later that she cricked her neck. ‘Wow!’ she said. ‘Where did that come from?’

‘Uncle Siegfried,’ I said. ‘He gave me his power as a Christmas present.’

This magic stuff is weird,’ said Dave.

MICHAEL CORNER AND THE PARALLEL SEQUENCE OF STORIES

Year 1

Michael Corner and The Really Annoying Bird’s Head

Michael arrives at Hogwarts and comes to terms with the Ravenclaw doorknocker.

Michael Corner and the Ghost of Christmas’s Present

Year 2

Michael Corner and The Chance to Impress

The Monster is loose! And Michael is looking after Luna, who identifies it as a basilisk. But Michael’s attempt to kill it goes badly wrong.

Year 3

Michael Corner and The Last Head Boy

Michael takes part in the election process for the next Head Boy and Girl, but the conclave is disrupted by Dementors.

Year 4

Michael Corner and The Entente Cordiale

Michael and his mother go to The World Cup and he saves some Beauxbatons students from the attention of the Death Eaters.

Michael Corner and the Lady of The Lake

Michael's friends from Beauxbatons arrive and he is one of the students put in charge of looking after them. He takes Michelle to the Yule Ball, but she has other ideas ...

Year 5

Michael Corner and The Lost Galleon

It is the era of Umbridge and The Order of The Phoenix. Michael joins Dumbledore's Army, but tensions destroy his relationship with Ginny.

Year 6

Michael Corner and the Field of Daisies

It is Results Day, and on a visit to Diagon Alley to buy material for the new term, Michael is forced into a deal with The Ministry that has catastrophic results.

Year 7

The Ministry is in control of Hogwarts and Michael is part of the subversive Dumbledore's Army. Pranks are one thing, but it is another when innocent firsties suffer as a result of them.


End file.
